A look at Lady Murasaki’s Diary, part 4: Malaise

Can I remain indifferent to those birds on the water? I too am floating in a sad, uncertain world.
–Lady Murasaki’s Diary, page 22

Lately, I’ve been reading the Diary of Lady Murasaki, which I discussed previously. Though very short, is a compelling read because of her very sincere feelings of malaise and hopelessness even when the events around her were so festive:

As the day for the Imperial visit to the mansion approached, everything was repaired and polished. Rare chrysanthemums were ordered and transplanted. As I gazed out at
them through the wraiths of morning mist — some fading to varying hues, others yellow in their prime, all arranged in various ways — it seemed to me that old age might indeed be conquered. But then for some strange reason — if only my appetites were more mundane, I might find more joy in life, regain a little youth, and face it all with equanimity — seeing and hearing all these marvelous, auspicious events only served to strengthen my yearnings. (pg. 22)

and later:

As I watched the rather drab scene at home, I felt both depressed and confused. For some years now I had existed from day to day in listless fashion, taking notes of flowers, the birds in song, the way skies change from season to season, the moon, the frost and snow, doing little more than registering the passage of time. (pg. 33-34)

But it’s worth wondering shy she consistently feels so alienated and depressed when she enjoys privilege as a lady-in-waiting for the Empress and has a much easier life than commoners. One could attribute this to the luxury of being wealthy and upper-class, since lower-class people are too busy trying to survive to be depressed. However, I think there’s more to it though:

So I hesitate to do even those things I should be able to do quite freely, only too aware of my own servants’ prying eyes. How much more so at court, where I have many things I would like to say but always think better of it, because there would be no point in explaining to people who would never understand….So all they see of me is a facade. There are times when I am forced to sit with them and on such occasions I simply ignore their petty criticisms, not because I am particularly shy but because I consider it pointless. As a result, they look upon me as a dullard. (pg. 56)

Despite the beauty of the Court, it seems everyone puts on a facade. Lady Murasaki is talking about herself here, but you can be sure that everyone else is doing the same. If everyone is putting up a front, and not being genuine, how can anyone feel a connection to one another, and thus how can they not avoid feeling lonely? But also, when I read the middle passage above about Lady Murasaki’s
feeling of listlessness and aimless wandering, I can’t help but think of the Buddhist notion of Samsara, the aimless sense of wandering that many, many people feel in their lives.

I often find myself reflecting on the aimless wanderings of my life as well, especially around the Holidays, and feel a deep affinity for Lady Murasaki despite a great gap in time, gender and culture. This is made worse by the fact my loved ones are overseas with family in Japan right now, and I am stuck working on the Holidays too. :-/